So Much Closer (8 page)

Of course April knows all about my new
Office
connection with Scott and how I won him over with my Jam tee yesterday. And how Leslie was waiting for him after school. And how he looked really happy to see her.

“So what if he likes her?” April says. “Things can change.”

“I wish something was actually happening with us.”

“It is! You guys have more in common now. You have stuff to talk about.”

April and I have been having these really long conversations every night since I moved here. I like to multitask when I’m on the phone. I’m currently working on an origami unicorn with the take-out menu that was in my dinner delivery. Dad’s working late. Again.

“If Scott talked as much as John, I’d be all set.”

“Who’s John?”

“I’m tutoring him.” I tell April how Sadie was bothering me to join peer tutoring so I gave in. I tell her about John. I leave out the part about my aptitude test.

“Interesting,” April says.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just ... I never thought you’d do something like that. It’s cool.”

“Really?”

“Totally! It’s obvious you want to help John. And it sounds like he really needs your help.”

“I never would have started if it wasn’t for Sadie.”

April doesn’t say anything.

“So ... what’s going on with you?” I say.

“Guess who asked me out today.”

“Oh my god, who?”

“Guess.”

“Please tell me it wasn’t Chad.”

“No. Robby Miller.”

“Robby
Miller
?”

“I know! How out-of-nowhere is that?” Robby Miller is this boy who was in book club with April last year. I really don’t know anything about him. He largely goes unnoticed because he’s so quiet. As far as I know, he’s never even talked to April before.

“Do you even like Robby Miller?” I ask.

“I never really thought about him before. He’s kind of cute. I guess.”

“You should go for it. You’re always saying how you want a boyfriend before we graduate. This could be your only chance.”

“Thanks!”

“Not because of
you
. You’re surrounded by a bunch of dorks. None of them are worthy.”

“Except Robby Miller?”

“Possibly. Definitely worth investigating.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

“Hey, I still haven’t heard from Candice. What’s up with that?”

April stays quiet. In the background, I can hear people yelling and a car honking.

“Where are you?” I ask.

“Outside Bean There.”

“Oh! I found this amazing coffeehouse in my neighborhood. It’s called Joe the Art of Coffee. Their coffee is on a whole other level. It’s
so
much better than Bean There. We have to go when you come visit.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Is Candice okay?”

“You can ask her yourself. She just got here.”

Faintly, I hear Candice asking who’s on the phone. April tells her it’s me.

“Hello?” Candice says.

“Finally!” I yell. “I’ve been dying to talk to you! Didn’t you get my messages?”

“And your texts and emails, yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you call me back?”

“Seriously?”

Candice sounds icy.

Hearing her voice like this makes the bad feeling come up again. But I’m still clinging to the hope that it’s not because of Scott.

“What’s wrong?” I say.

“What’s
wrong
? How can you not know?”

“Um . . .”

“You knew I liked Scott. Not only did you try to get with him, you freaking
followed
him to New York!”

Crap. The bad feeling was right.

But see, I don’t get it. How can Candice be this mad at me for liking Scott? When she liked him two years ago, she was super obvious about it. She didn’t mean to be. It’s just that her hormones took over. Everyone could tell she liked him. Whenever she saw him, she would turn bright red. She was always staring at him. The way she talked and acted changed whenever he was around. All the classic crush signs were there and everyone knew it.

The thing is, Scott didn’t like Candice back. Someone eventually told him that she liked him. After that, he completely avoided her. He was clearly trying to let her down easy.

I couldn’t just move to New York without telling Candice why. Especially since she’d heard that Scott was moving here. So I told her I started liking him right before she did, but that I’d been holding myself back because I knew she liked him, too. She didn’t seem mad about it at all. She even helped me pack.

“But you liked him two years ago,” I remind her.

“So what?” Candice snaps. “You knew I liked him. Who goes after a boy her friend likes?”

“I didn’t know you were mad about this. Why didn’t you say anything when I told you why I was moving?”

“Because I was trying to be a good friend. But then you left and it was real and now you’re both ... Why did you even move there? Did you really think Scott would suddenly notice you after all this time?”

Hearing Candice talk to me this way makes the guilt I was feeling instantly vanish. She obviously doesn’t understand how important Scott is to me. And I seriously doubt I can make her understand.

“Talk about warped logic,” she mumbles.

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” I explain. “You liked him a long time ago. He didn’t like you back. End of story.”

“Here’s a flash: the world isn’t black and white. There are shades of gray. You should try being more compassionate sometime.”

“And you should try supporting your friends. I gave up senior year with you guys. That’s how much this means to me. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I tend to have a problem supporting my friends being backstabbing liars.”

“When did I lie?”

“You didn’t tell me you liked Scott. That’s the same as lying.”

“I told you before I moved.”

“That doesn’t count. The whole time you liked Scott, you never told me.”

“Because I knew you liked him!”

“So how do you think it feels that you followed him to New York?”

“It doesn’t ... I’m sorry, but I can’t protect your feelings forever. I have to live my life.”

“Go live it then,” Candice says.

And then she’s gone.

I like it
here in the Zen garden. There’s no sign or anything saying it’s a Zen garden. That’s just the impression it makes. I like the tall grasses, the minimalist wooden benches, the stepping-stones. I like how it manages to be secluded in the middle of everything while street life rushes by all around. Sitting here in the stillness, I think about everyone back home.

After Candice hung up on me last night, I felt so alone. April texted me after to say don’t worry and that Candice will get over it. I’m not convinced. She’s never been this angry before. But I really hope April is right. They’re pretty much the only friends I have. I guess you could count Sadie as a new friend, but it’s not the same. We don’t have a shared history. I didn’t realize how important that was until I left it all behind.

Everything is so different here. You cannot believe how many stores there are on one block. When I first got here I just stood on Bleecker Street, astounded by the abundance. You can pretty much get whatever you want within a few blocks of your place. It’s unreal. And no one ever drives anywhere. New Yorkers take the subway or ride buses. They walk a lot. I’ve basically walked everywhere since I got here, which is a radical change. If you walked around back home, people would wonder what’s wrong with your car. But here it’s standard. People walk by you on the street remarkably fast, usually without even noticing you. Which is fine by me. I appreciate the anonymity. It’s awesome that I could be anyone, that I don’t have to be me when I’m sick of me.

But at the same time, it’s kind of lonely. Dad’s hardly ever home. I don’t really know anyone at school. Things with Scott aren’t the way I’d hoped. I miss my mom. We’ve talked a few times since I left, but it’s not the same. Even though we weren’t really getting along, having her home every day mattered. Seeing my friends every day mattered. I really miss April and Candice. I miss the things we used to do.

No more riding around in April’s new car, singing over the music.

No more hanging out at Bean There after school, laughing about whatever.

No more scamming on boys down the shore all summer.

I take out my cell and call April.

“Hello?”

“Remember that guy down the shore who always put blue sunblock on his nose?”

“Who?”

“The guy with the blue nose. What was his name again?”

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do! He dropped his funnel cake on your towel.”

“Oh.” April’s voice fades, like she’s pulling away from the phone. “I remember now.”

“Are you busy? I can call back later.”

“No, I have way too much homework. Later is not an option.”

Then there’s this awkward silence. Here in the Zen garden, tall grasses rustle in the breeze. I wonder what’s happening on April’s side. I wish I could be in two places at once. Do I have to leave my old life behind completely just because I moved away?

“So how’d it go with Robby Miller?” I ask.

“It didn’t. I’m still deciding what to say.”

“But you want to go out with him, right?”

April sighs. I recognize that sigh. It’s the one she does when she feels overwhelmed.

“I don’t know,” she says.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just ... tired.”

Something’s not right. April and I can always talk, even when there’s not much to actually talk about. I was hoping for one of our fun gossip sessions to pull me out of my mood. But it doesn’t sound like April wants to talk about anything fun. Or even talk at all.

Candice has already moved on. Will April do the same?

“I should go,” April says. “I’m never going to finish this homework. Call me tomorrow?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Of course! We’re still us, it’s ... sorry I’m being antisocial. It’s just the exhaustion.”

“I hear you. Talk to you tomorrow.”

I’m not sure if I believe April about being tired. Whatever’s going on with her, one thing is clear. The days of sharing my life with the only good friends I’ve ever known are over.

It’s time to create a new life all on my own.

The girl who was out here sketching before is back. She’s on the same bench as last time, looking up. I try to find what she’s looking at. The moon is huge and bright.

Some people are running on the path between us. This is where Dad and I ran together the first Sunday I was here. He said how he needs to get back into running and I like to run, so we should run together every Sunday. That will be our thing. It’s cool that it’s only been two weeks and we already have a thing. We didn’t get to run last Sunday because of the rain, though.

“Hey, Brooke!” a girl yells, running along the path. I recognize her from school, but I can’t remember her name. I wave back.

The girl on the bench looks over. This jolt goes through me when we make eye contact. I’ve passed so many people on the street who zip by looking anywhere but at me. People racing by while walking their dogs or gripping their coffee cups or on their phones or speaking different languages with their friends. I don’t know what everyone’s in such a rush for. When someone does glance at me, they quickly look away if my eyes meet theirs. It’s almost like there’s this rule that you’re not allowed to make eye contact with anyone for longer than two seconds.

Seeing someone and actually having them see me back makes an impact. Unlike the other New Yorkers I’ve encountered, this girl doesn’t immediately look away. She smiles with friendly eyes. Then she goes back to sketching.

Maybe it’s because I’m lonely. Or maybe there’s something about her that I’m already connecting with on a subconscious level. Whatever the reason, I want to talk to her. I go over and sit on the bench next to hers.

“Hey,” she says. “Do you go to Eames?”

“No.”

“Oh. I thought I recognized you. I’m Rhiannon, but everyone calls me Ree.”

“I’m Brooke.”

“I heard. That’s my sister’s name.”

Now that I’m closer, I can see the charcoal moon in progress on her sketch pad. Ree’s moon has all these detailed craters that I can’t even see when I look at the real moon.

“You’re really good,” I say.

“Thanks. It helps me unwind.”

“Origami does the same for me.”

I never talk this much to someone I don’t know. I can feel some kind of magic happening. It’s like the city energy makes anything possible.

“Do you live around here?” Ree asks.

“Yeah, over on Perry Street.”

“Oh, sweet. I’m on West 11th.”

She lives on Scott’s street. That’s one for the Of Course file. Maybe she’s seen him around. She might even know where he lives. But how weird would that be, asking about some boy when we just met?

“I just moved here,” I say.

“From where?”

“New Jersey.” The skyline of Jersey City glitters in the night. I love its shimmery reflection on the water. I try to look in the exact direction of my town, somewhere behind that glowing line of light. But I can’t figure out which way I’m from.

Ree still gives me a pang of jealousy, with her warm social skills and her Sparkly City Girl ways. She’s had all these years to absorb the energy I’d been longing for. Being here is a given for her. I wonder if she takes it for granted. Or does she appreciate being here as much as I do?

“How’s it going so far?” she asks.

“Good. I’ve wanted to live here for a long time. I’m living with my dad now.”

“It must be nice having him around.”